


starfoam

by scar_letstrings



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: All of them are, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Canon Divergence, Dream Needs A Hug, Dream Redemption, Dream Smp, Found Family, Gen, Healing, Heavy Angst, Lowercase, Mute Tommy, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Techno needs a hug, Tommy needs a hug, be warned, but it's a hard road for all of them, cottagecore fic, dream is a complicated character, i cried while writing this i have no regrets, mentions of SBI - Freeform, run away and cottagecore fic sort of, why does techno have so many character tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29546523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scar_letstrings/pseuds/scar_letstrings
Summary: the idea of dissolving away, of becoming one with the sea, of finally touching the stars and breathing in their stardust - that was what tommy wanted.he would become starfoam, he thought to himself, a mixture of the stars and the ocean themselves, because they'd been his only friends, and he didn't bother to keep himself afloat as the waves swallowed the top of his hair and he fell floating into the dark, ominous sea.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit, Technoblade & TommyInnit & Dream, TommyInnit & Dream
Comments: 40
Kudos: 246





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> lowercase is intentional

the silence was what made tommy cry first. it wasn't the exile itself, or the betrayal of tubbo, or even the whispered threats of dream that had him tearing up and curling into himself. 

it was the silence. 

tommy hated silence. 

he could remember the last time he was like this, balling himself up so he was as small as he could possibly be while he trembled in sorrow. except that time, phil had been there, curling his wing comfortingly around tommy and murmuring praise and hums to get him to calm down. 

now, all tommy had was the sand against his legs, the unforgiving sea breeze, and the feeling that he was the loneliest man in the world. 

well. 

loneliest  _ boy  _ in the world. 

because they were right. all of them. no matter how much tommy screamed his throat raw that he wasn't a child, he  _ was,  _ and that was the most damning thing of all. 

the tears running down his face burned him, threatened to seep into every crack and crevice and leave him writhing in pain, but he made no move to brush them away. he just sat there, the sand slick with sea water and slowly soaking his pants, the ocean beating on the shore without a pause for the weeping boy before it, and tommy didn't speak. 

he stared at the sea, at the way it moved and shuddered with its quiet power, and he had never been a big fan of the ocean before but he supposed that there was something beautiful about it. as deadly as it was, it was the only one willing to be there, the only one willing to speak as it sang its never-ending song in time with the rhythm of its waves. 

tommy wondered if the ocean was his friend, wondered if it was the only friend he would ever have again, and when a wave of white-hot foam crawled up the sand and lapped at his feet, he could imagine that it was a promise and a warning. 

tommy closed his eyes, listened to the waves of the sea, and he cried. 

* * *

wilbur didn't visit as often as he used to. that was fine with tommy - it was too painful of a reminder to witness the pale imitation of his brother, to look into the apparition's eyes and only see a shadow of who his beloved sibling once was. 

wilbur was nothing more than a pitiful, half-dead being that was losing himself more and more as each day passed. 

tommy doubted wilbur even remembered who he was by that point. 

it was fine. 

(nothing was fine.) 

the last time anyone visited him had been techno, and that was months ago. the exchange had been short and clipped. long gone were the days when they were safe and protected in the warm bubble of phil's home as they loved each other like brothers should. 

that bubble was shattered, and all that was left was the sour, bitter taste of techno and tommy's betrayal to each other. 

of wilbur's insanity. 

of dream's greed. 

of tommy's naivety. 

of techno's bloodlust. 

of everything. 

tommy couldn't remember how long it's been since he was exiled. maybe years. who knew. 

the dirt hut he'd made was in shambles. he didn't use it anymore, because nothing was on that island except himself and the ocean. he didn't need it for keeping his possessions, not when all of them had been destroyed by dream, and he didn't need it for sleep, not when rest was nothing more than a laughable jest by that point. 

it was night time again. 

tommy could remember days when nights had been full of laughter and honey-filled sighs, of saturating hugs and reckless endangerment, of everything and anything he and his family had thought of. 

he stared at the ocean and he walked into it, the cold water merciless around his bare ankles as he stared up at the stars and wondered if he reached up, he'd be able to smear stardust across his fingertips and soar into the inky sky, away from his exile and the torn pieces of his life. 

he shouldn't have done it. 

shouldn't have built l'manberg, shouldn't have turned a blind eye to wilbur's increasing paranoia, shouldn't have shoved techno away in favor of crowning a new government. 

something thick coated the back of tommy's tongue and it was the phantom taste of blood, dripping and dark and threatening to suffocate him. 

the ocean sang to him. 

he glanced at it, wondering what she was trying to say, and she cooed at him. the deep blue of her vast seas beckoned him, and he tilted his head, thinking and thinking and thinking, but he crawled back to the shore anyway, trying to ignore the mournful cries of her song as he sat on the sand and curled up into himself. 

tommy had only the ocean. 

it strangely felt like a dream. 

* * *

"you seem quiet." 

tommy didn't bother looking up as he half-shrugged in dream's direction. 

maybe he was. 

he didn't care.

there was displeasure in dream's voice as he said, "you should stop acting like a child. this is your punishment, tommy, so man up and own your mistakes." 

_ i  _ am  _ a child.  _

it was quiet. 

tommy never liked the quiet. 

"are you just going to mope the entire time i'm here?" dream sighed. 

tommy shrugged. 

"you're pathetic," dream said almost pleasantly, and there was a viciousness in his voice that he couldn't hide no matter how much sugar dotted his teeth. "you're pathetic, tommy, i hope you know that." 

tommy stared at the ocean, at the way she carried on without a care for dream and his sharp words. the world went on, tommy told himself, no matter how much dream wanted to think otherwise. 

dream was not a god even with all his greed and control and fear, and the ocean moved on, singing her song and following the moon. she did not tremble or gasp at dream's presence, did not scream for mercy, did not pray that he would spare her. 

she just was. 

"you like the ocean?" dream asked. his voice changed then, a little softer and a little more brittle, like he was thinking of something else. 

tommy looked at him.

he looked tired. 

well - sort of. the mask hid most of it but he certainly sounded tired. tommy wondered what gave him the right to sound so exhausted when he was a tyrant, but he looked at the ocean and told himself that he didn't care. 

no one else cared. 

tommy wouldn't, either.

dream left. 

tommy didn't say goodbye. 

* * *

tommy threw away his everything the next day. he didn't sleep the night before, hadn't been able to since months ago, and he spent an hour just throwing everything into the sea and watching as she swallowed it all up. 

he had no use for any of it. 

he chucked tubbo's compass the farthest. 

when it sailed through the air and shattered into the sea, tommy only stared. 

all he had was the ocean. 

* * *

it was a surprise when wilbur came along. tommy couldn't remember the last time he saw his older brother, and he'd honestly thought that the ghost had forgotten all about him. 

"blue?" wilbur chirped, and he pressed the stuff into tommy's hands. tommy stared down at them and he vaguely thought to himself that his nails were messy, with bits of sand and dirt clinging to the underside while he'd bitten them ragged. 

a long time ago, tommy would have said something, maybe even thrown a fit about his image. 

he just tucked the blue away into his bag, knowing that it'd get thrown away later that night. 

"there was a festival in l'manberg last night!" wilbur said cheerfully, and his voice was high-pitched with oversaturated happiness as he patted the ground next to him. he beamed when tommy say down without complaint. "it was really fun. i wish you could've been there." 

tommy resisted the urge to throw a violent shove at the ghost.  _ i'll never be allowed back.  _

"you don't seem very happy." that, too, was said cheerfully. tommy was already ready to shout at him to stop. the silence was all he knew by then, and the too-wide grin and too-loud voice were going to kill him. "what's wrong, tommy?" 

what's wrong. 

hah. 

"you should try to smile more," wilbur chirped, and he shoveled more blue into tommy's hands, staining his skin deep and getting under his nails along with the grime that was already there. "do what makes you happy!" 

what made him happy. 

tommy wasn't sure about that. 

* * *

that night, tommy waded into the sea once more, almost cried in relief as she painfully dug thousands of tiny claws into his skin, the cold too much and  _ burning  _ him from the inside out, but he kept going until he was to his knees and he was panting at the freeze. 

the ocean beckoned him closer, promised him freedom and joy, and he faltered, almost listening to her siren's call. 

he went back to the shore, but not before he stood in the ocean for a long, long time. 

* * *

"what the hell happened to you?" techno snarled, and his usually impassive voice was bleeding with his frustration, knives dripping down his tongue and stabbing right into tommy's skin. 

he ignored the pain of his brother staring at him like he was the scum of the earth. the sea had hurt him far more for far less, and tommy sat on the sand, swaying slightly to the tune of the waves. 

"you're just rotting away on this stupid island, without any regard for your health or needs!" techno shouted. 

techno had never shouted at him before. 

and just like that, the anger drained away, leaving behind something softer, something far more awful, and the weak tremble of techno's lips somehow felt worse than his spiteful anger.

he was sad. 

tommy's big brother was sad. 

"tommy," techno begged, and that was new, too, because technoblade never bowed his head to anyone, not even their father. and yet there he was, crouched on the sand, his ever so important cape getting dirty but his voice telling tommy he didn't care, and tommy's hands quivered. 

by the time tommy finally turned his head, techno was long gone. 

* * *

the blue in tommy's hands drifted away with the waves, and the water lapped at his elbows, freezing him from the waist-below as he stared at the night sky and remembered what wilbur had said. 

what made him happy. 

the blue flowed away, and tommy watched it go, and he wondered, he  _ wondered  _ if tommy even knew what happiness was. 

the ocean had taken everything away from him, after all. 

tommy wondered if the sea swallowed his soul, too. 

* * *

"you're wasting away," phil said, and tommy sat on the sand, swaying and breathing and barely living. "please, tommy - son,  _ please. _ " 

tommy didn't answer. 

* * *

tommy didn't look up as he heard dream rowing his boat to shore. he didn't look up when dream landed and walked up beside him. he didn't look up when dream sat down and gently took his hand in his own. 

"tommy," dream said gently. it burned him, it really did, how quiet and reassuring dream sounded. tommy was tired of falling for it. "tommy, look at me." 

tommy did not look. 

dream's fingers squeezed his gently, and tommy didn't make any move to push him away, but he didn't pull him closer, either. 

"you're scaring me, tommy," dream said, and his voice cracked in the middle. he sounded scared. lost. tommy would have laughed if he still remembered how to. "i just - i went too far. this has all gone on too far. just look at me, tommy." 

tommy moved like his joints were rusted and he was half-alive, and he looked, looked at the mask dream had pushed aside, looked at his worried green eyes and his freckled constellations, looked at his weak tears and quivering lips, and tommy didn't say anything when dream tipped his chin down and wept silently. 

tommy looked but he didn't see. 

he didn't see because he was blinded by the ocean and its abyss, and he wondered why dream cried, why crystalline drops clung to his long lashes, but most of all, he wondered if dream was real. 

* * *

the sea was cold. that was fine with tommy. anything to get away from the burn and heat of the sun, the betrayal of his family, the cruelty of what had once been his home. 

tommy waded into the water with nothing but the clothes on his back and the offhand thought that he would not be going back to the shore. not that night. 

the ocean beckoned him, her song brushing against his ears and whispering promises of relief, of companionship, and he stood there, the water trickling up to his shoulders by that point, and he asked himself if this would finally be it. 

he stared at the lone sheet of paper he held in his hand. he vaguely remembered pressing sugar into the flat surface, but he didn't bother much to try and force himself to dig up the memory. it didn't matter anyway. 

the words scribbled onto the paper mattered even less. they were simple words, a simple sentence, and a simple message, but he figured it would be his closure. figured it'd be anyone's closure if they happened to come to his island again. 

as if they would. 

he tossed the letter into the air, and he watched as it danced with the wind before it fluttered to the shore, twirling for a second before coming to a stop on the sand. 

tommy turned back to the sea and he didn't say anything as the cold water began to tickle his chin. he willed himself to be like the blue he'd washed away, he tried to remember wilbur's words, tried to  _ do what made him happy.  _

this made him happy. 

the idea of dissolving away, of becoming one with the sea, of finally touching the stars and breathing in their stardust - that was what tommy wanted. 

he would become starfoam, he thought to himself, a mixture of the stars and the ocean themselves, because they'd been his only friends, and he didn't bother to keep himself afloat as the waves swallowed the top of his hair and he fell floating into the dark, ominous sea. 

it was dangerous and it was beautiful, and tommy just floated, the salt stinging his eyes but his heart too tired to care. 

the waves continued above him, uncaring of the way they just consumed a lonely boy from a lonely shore, and that almost made tommy smile. 

the world would go on, he thought to himself, with or without a boy named tommy. 

tommy let out his last bubble of air, felt something cold pierce his lungs, and he closed his eyes, the stars the last things he saw. 

he wondered if anyone would notice if he was gone. 

he wondered if they would care if they did. 

he wondered, he wondered, he wondered. 

he drowned. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uppercase is intentional

Dream frowned at the way the potatoes cooked so slowly in his furnace. He was sure that he had set the temperature right and he'd placed the potatoes at the correct angles, it was just taking so damn long. 

Dream felt slightly uncomfortable as he sat on the floor of his hastily made cobblestone house and impatiently watched the furnace burn. 

The air smelled like charred coal and he made a face at it, and he made a face even more when he felt the netherite armor dig into his back as he sat. 

It was fine, he tried to tell himself. The armor was just insurance, protection for a _what if_ scenario, and he scratched the back of his neck like it would soothe the deep itch inside of him that questioned when he started being so paranoid of his own friends. 

Whatever. 

It was everyone's fault for not listening to him, anyway. If only they'd just _listened_ then nothing would be falling apart, and Dream wouldn't have to wear his armor like it was glued to his skin. 

"Dream!" 

Dream whirled around and unsheathed his sword, the netherite shining with deadly enchantments and the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he thrust the blade right through Wilbur's pale body. 

For fuck's sake. 

Dream didn't smile behind his mask, but his voice was cheerfully pleasant and cautious as he said, "Wilbur. You really snuck up on me, there." 

He didn't bother putting his sword away, instead watching as Wilbur glided past the blade and silently mourning the idea that he once could've run the weapon right through him. 

There were only a few things Dream regretted. 

Not killing Wilbur himself was one of them. 

"Sorry about that," Wilbur sang, and Dream twitched. He despised the man for a lot of things, but this pale imitation of him was probably the biggest one. He hated the cheerful words, the overly-happy smile, and even more than that, the deadly threat of half-forgotten memories that lurked in his fish eyes. "I just wanted to come see the big man himself! Want some blue?" 

Dream didn't even have time to protest before the stuff was being shoved into his hands. He made a noise of disdain when he saw the way his fingers and gloves took on the color. He threw the blue into his inventory, making a note to burn it all later. 

“What are you doing here,” Dream said, and the false polite fell from his voice as he watched Wilbur float around his cobblestone hut and even rummaged through his chest. 

Dream wished he could've run his blade through him, and he fingered the handle of his axe threateningly, but Wilbur didn't seem to notice. 

"I'm not sure," Wilbur said, and he tilted his head, genuine confusion coloring his voice as he took out a small golden nugget and rolled it around in his hand. "Oh! You know, Techno likes gold!" 

"I'm aware." 

"He really likes it." 

"Sure, Wilbur." 

"Just as much as Tommy loves the ocean!" Wilbur said happily, and he floated closer, way too close for comfort. Dream tried not to hiss in displeasure when Wilbur's nose almost touched his. "He loves it, Dream. He loves it more than anything." 

Dream stared. Wilbur was many things in his ghostly form, but direct was not one of them. As much as Dream had hated him when he was alive, he had once respected and even loved him for his intelligence and cunning brain, the only one aside from Technoblade who could rival Dream's own sly tendencies. 

Wilbur was now nothing more than a shadow of who he once was, always forgetting and always smiling, but something sparked in his dead eyes, and it was then that Dream realized it was fear. 

Wilbur was afraid. 

Something cold slithered up Dream's spine, and he held the handle of his axe so tight that his knuckles became white. 

"Dream?" Wilbur asked. 

"Get out," Dream said calmly. 

"He loves the ocean," Wilbur muttered, and that glassy look returned to his eyes as he floated away, phasing through a wall and leaving Dream in the cold. "Loves it so much…" 

Dream quickly shoveled the baked potatoes into his inventory, only wincing once when his fingertips became burnt and rubbed red with blisters. He didn't care, however, and immediately abandoned the hut while he skidded out onto the beach and stared across the ocean. 

The chill in his spine became a piercing icicle, and he breathed out a slow huff as he tried to tell himself that rowing would be the best option. It'd been his idea, after all, to temporarily move to the neighboring island, if only to have easy access to Tommy's and check up on him, so the distance between them wasn't too bad. 

But something itched at Dream's gut, practically hissed at him to stop when he started to reach for a boat, and he grit his teeth before he hesitantly let his fingertips glow green and pull up the command list. 

He was breaking the rules. He wasn't supposed to abuse his admin abilities for selfish reasons such as this, but something was _wrong_ and Dream had never been a patient person. 

Teleporting to Tommy's island was like a frameskip, and Dream was disoriented for a moment as he sagged against a tree and tried to catch his breath. This was part of the reason why he hated teleporting. It left him vulnerable, if even for a moment, and he hated the paranoia that told him it was one moment too many. 

Dream straightened up and looked around him. No one knew but he'd altered the code slightly so that Tommy's island wouldn't spawn any hostile mobs. It felt like another favor Dream had given so effortlessly, and he tucked it away onto the list of things Tommy owed him for. 

But the fact that there were no mobs meant that Tommy would be relatively safe. So why was it that Dream saw no one on the beach? 

The sand crunched under his boots and soaked the steel toes. It was the only sound aside from the crashing waves, and Dream frowned as he crossed his arms to try and alleviate the goosebumps running up his skin. 

The silence was unnerving. Dream was far too used to Tommy's screams and laughter, and he felt a strike of discomfort squeeze his stomach as he thought about how Tommy hadn't spoken in months. 

"Tommy?" Dream called. 

It was futile. He should have known that Tommy wouldn't answer because the boy was too stubborn to speak, and Dream felt a small itch of irritation as he clicked his tongue and looked around him. 

There was no trace of the boy, and Dream wondered if maybe he'd foolishly attempted to try and run away, but there was a sheet of white among the gray sand and he walked over to pick it up. 

The paper was half-soaked and bled with seawater, and the ink written on it was blotching, almost like the ocean had cried tears of sorrow onto it, and Dream felt like he'd been struck with lighting as he read the words no doubt written in Tommy's chicken scratch. 

_the tide beats on._

What the _hell?_

Dream snapped his head up as he heard something in the distance. It was like bubbles, almost like the sound of magma blocks underwater, but it was too close to the surface to be anything like that. 

Dream shoved the paper into his inventory and scrambled to the edge of the shore, his pants getting soaked as he screamed his voice raw when he saw the rapidly popping bubbles of air - of life - drifting to the surface. 

" _TOMMY!_ " Dream screamed. 

He yanked off his armor, enchanted to the max in protection and durability, the armor he'd spent so long wearing and swore he'd never take off, instead throwing it all into the sand and hysterically telling himself that they would rust. 

Dream hadn't worn his normal clothes in so long, but he had no time to relish the weight off his shoulders as he quickly kicked off his boots and then dove into the ocean. 

It felt like the sea was fighting him, shrieking at him with its thundering waves to keep away from Tommy, but Dream surged forward anyway, kicking and fighting against the current as he saw a floating figure in the distance. 

The moon was bright that night and a silver light weakly flickered through the waves, making Tommy's curls seem like beacons of gold as Dream desperately tried to make his way over. 

He was running out of breath, his lungs burning and his eyes stinging with the salt, but Dream kept going, thinking to himself that Tommy must be so cold, so _cold_ by himself in the sea, and that thought gave him the strength to kick one last time and dig his fingers with a bruising strength into Tommy's arm. 

Getting to the surface was harder than diving in, especially considering he had to lug another person with him, and it seemed the ocean was wailing for Dream to stop, for it to consume Tommy head to toe, but he _fucking refused._

He breached the surface with a gasp, coughing wetly and tugging on Tommy harshly until his head was tucked into Dream's neck. Dream gritted his teeth and tried not to snarl when he realized that he couldn't feel the ragged huffs of Tommy's breathing against his slick skin. 

Dream was just barely able to breathe himself, and he cursed loudly before he angrily reached up and yanked his mask off with a snap. He tossed it behind him into the sea, and for a moment he watched as the waves ate it up. 

Fuck. 

He summoned the command list with one hand and had them teleported to the beach in one fell swoop, but it didn't matter, not when Tommy slid out of Dream's arms and onto the sand like he was just a broken doll. 

He wasn't breathing. 

Dream hastily looked through his inventory and he had to bite back a scream of frustration when he realized that he didn't have a single potion on him. Of course he didn't, he'd been living on that stupid neighboring island for months, never going back to L'Manberg or the SMP in general because he couldn't stand to face anyone there, and now Tommy was going to _die._

He was close to death, Dream knew he was. It would only be a matter of time before his code erased itself and he drifted away, because this was Tommy's last life and Dream was the admin but even he couldn't fight death. 

It was the only foe he had yet to conquer. 

Dream rolled Tommy onto his back and got to his knees beside him. He clasped his hands one over the other and then began to thrust over and over again on the middle of Tommy's chest, keeping his arms straight and his rhythm steady even though he was already so tired from all that swimming. 

_Get him to breathe._

Dream tipped Tommy's head back and forcefully huffed two breaths into his mouth, watching as his chest rose and fell with each one. Nothing was stuck in his throat then - good. 

Dream went back to the compressions, unwavering and balanced even when he could hear the sounds of Tommy's ribs, weakened by months of malnourishment and negligence, beginning to crack. 

_A few broken ribs don't matter. Breathe, dammit._

They snapped. With each unforgiving thrust of his arms, Dream could hear one - two - three ribs snap under his strength, and he couldn't help but grin to himself, because this was evident that Tommy was alive, that he wasn't dead yet, and this was for _everything_ the foolish boy had done against Dream. 

But Dream backed off and went to forcefully make him breathe once more, and he tipped Tommy's chin back, making note of how much of his collarbone was jutting out and how sunken his cheeks were, and he breathed once, twice, before he was unexpectedly shoved away while Tommy's eyes flew open with a gasp. 

Dream watched, an elbow on the sand while his other hand reached up to wipe away at his mouth, while Tommy leaned over and vomited. 

He didn’t bother trying to pat his back or anything of the sort. He had a feeling that it wouldn’t help, and Tommy had a haunted and feverish look in his eyes that reminded Dream of Wilbur too much for his comfort as he heaved and hacked. 

But that changed when Tommy’s shoulders scrunched up and began to shake while he sobbed. 

He was crying, Dream thought to himself rather dumbly, feeling stunned and thunderstruck as thick tears ran down Tommy’s ruddy red face. He was choking on his own vomit and the seawater that was definitely burning his throat, and the tears weren’t helping, making him look even worse than Dream thought possible. 

“Breathe,” was the only thing Dream felt like he could say, and he didn’t dare try to pat his back. He’d already done too much, as evident when Tommy pressed his hands to his chest and cried out in pain while Dream grimaced at the sounds of his ribs, but instead, Dream laid a hesitant hand on Tommy’s shoulder, hoping that it would be enough. 

He had a suspicion that the only reason it wasn’t thrown off was because Tommy was in too much pain to care. 

By the time Tommy was done vomiting, the air smelled vile and his skin was even paler than it already had been, no longer a healthy golden tan like it’d been back in L’Manberg. Tommy slumped to the sand, and for a second Dream panicked, the scene far too similar to when he first dragged him out of the water, but Tommy then let out a wet cough and he sighed in relief. 

“Come on,” Dream said not unkindly, and he watched as Tommy stared at him while tears silently streamed down his face. Dream felt uncomfortable as Tommy looked but didn’t seem to even comprehend who Dream was or what was happening. The cries were quiet, too, and something gnawed at Dream’s heart. “We need to get you help.”

  
  
Tommy didn’t say anything. 

Dream sighed and he took in the state of him. 

The boy was exhausted, he had to be, because he was absolutely drenched but he wasn’t even shivering anymore. His lips were slick with seawater and his own sickness, his eyes already starting to half-close, and there was something so viscerally awful with the way he kept _staring_ but didn’t seem to see. 

Fuck. 

Dream ran a hand through his hair and grimaced when he realized that he was just as soaked. It wouldn’t do good for either of them if Dream ended up catching a cold or something equally ridiculous, so he sighed before leaning down and picking Tommy up. 

The boy made a small noise at being jostled, and Dream sent him an unimpressed look. 

“Suck it up,” Dream said simply, and Tommy seemed to coil into himself at the words, breathing shallowly while he blinked away droplets of tears and seawater from his lashes. 

Dream never knew how to say the right things. 

What Dream _did_ know, however, was that there was only one person he could (however reluctantly) trust in this situation. As much as Dream hated him, Technoblade was a respectable warrior and leader, but better yet, he was isolated. 

Tommy had no place in L’Manberg, at least not yet, and Philza was off doing who knew fuck what. Technoblade was Tommy’s only (living) brother, and the man also had a plethora of potions. This was the only option. 

Tommy was frighteningly light in Dream’s arms as he broke the rules once more and teleported them right to Technoblade’s house, leaving behind the forgotten armor half-buried in the sand. 

Well. 

Almost. 

Dream wasn’t always the best at remembering coordinates, and he let out a noise of frustration when they spawned in the middle of dense pine trees and not on Technoblade’s doorstep like he planned. He was lucky that they weren’t that far away, maybe a couple minutes at best, but it was starting to snow and the both of them were wearing soaked clothes and had wet hair. 

The shit Dream did for this kid. 

His boots crunched in the snow and his ankles were already freezing as he began to make the journey to Technoblade. He hated everything about the situation - about how it was night time and he was paranoid that a creeper would jump on them, about how he couldn’t defend themselves when his hands were full, about how he was going to Technoblade for _help_ of all things, but most of all, he hated the way Tommy looked in his arms, limp and surviving but not _alive._

He was, horrifyingly enough, like Wilbur, lifeless and unsaturated, no longer the boy Dream fuzzily remembered meeting all those months ago. 

_This is my design._

A lump grew in Dream’s throat. 

The walk to Technoblade’s house couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, but by the time he reached the doorway and was knocking on it, he was shivering to hell and Tommy’s fingertips were blue. His eyes were closed and he was still breathing, but he wasn't doing it as strongly as before. He was definitely going to get hypothermia on top of everything else, and Dream was losing patience when Technoblade didn’t answer right away. 

His hand began to reach into his inventory, inching towards the netherite axe that shined purple with sharpness enchantments, and he had the vicious thought that if Technoblade didn’t answer _right that fucking_ second then Dream would take his axe and run it right through the wood and maybe even right into Technoblade’s stupid fucking face - 

The door opened with a creak and the supposed Blood God stood there, his eyebrows raised and his cape still on like he actually wore the thing inside his own house, and it was silent for a moment before Technoblade’s eyes dropped down and he snarled. 

“Don’t fucking start,” Dream said bitterly, and he gathered Tommy in his arms once again before he stood up on his shaky legs and tipped his chin up so he could at least somewhat be looking down on Techno. He hated the fact that they were the same height. “Let me in.”  
  


“You’re dead if you did this to him,” Technoblade growled, but he let him pass anyway, and Dream didn’t want to admit it but the warmth of the house almost made him collapse in relief. 

“As if you didn’t partake in this as much as I did,” Dream said sharply, and he shouldered his way into a random room, settling Tommy down and frowning when he turned around to see Techno blocking the doorway. 

“You’re crossin’ a line you shouldn’t, Dream,” Technoblade said dangerously. His eyes were bleeding red and his tusks were formed into an inhuman snarl as he glared at Dream, daring him to say otherwise. 

“Do you know what he said?” Dream exploded. He dug around his inventory blindly and came up with a crumpled, half-dried piece of paper that was barely legible. He threw it at Techno’s face, sneering when he easily caught it, and Dream wanted to drive his axe into his neck over and over again until the Blood God spilled blood. “ _That’s_ what he fucking said. You get it, Techno? He almost died. _The tide beats on._ The world would go on. That’s what he thought because _you_ \- “ 

“ _You deserve to be slaughtered,_ ” Techno hissed, and he was fisting the little sheet of paper so tightly that it was a miracle it wasn’t being torn. 

“You’re a piece of shit brother - “ 

“You did this - “ 

“You betrayed him - “

“You exiled him, you sent him to rot away on that _stupid_ \- “ 

Dream didn’t even realize he was crying until Techno suddenly stopped shouting, his face stricken and his eyes wide. Dream blinked, wondering what was wrong, and it was then that he raised a hand to his face and uttered a small, “oh,” while tears dripped onto his fingers and off his chin. 

They burned. 

It was silent. 

Dream hated the silence. 

“I’m sorry,” Techno said, and it was muttered gruffly through grit teeth, too rough to be sincere, too angry to be insincere, and Dream’s hand twitched as his fingers reached out and wrapped around Tommy’s wrist, like he was trying to anchor himself and tell himself that Tommy really was there, really was breathing and hurt but _alive._

“Yeah,” Dream muttered. 

_Me too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things... sort of got better :')
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/scar_letstrings)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> different capitalization is intentional

Techno had never been much of a healer, but looking at his little brother in the moonlight and taking in his ragged appearance made him wish he’d paid more attention to their father and the way he could tend to wounds so efficiently. 

Tommy was, for a lack of better word, awful. His dirty curls, which had once gleamed gold, plastered themselves to his pale skin and gaunt cheekbones. There were bags so dark under his eyes that he looked more like a raccoon than anything, and he breathed unevenly, raspy and stuttering in his throat like he was still gasping for breath. 

It was easy to connect the dots and what Tommy had done. It was almost ironic, and it also would have been funny if it’d been anyone else but Techno’s little brother, but Tommy had always said that he hated the ocean before he was sent to be exiled on that tiny island with nothing more than the clothes on his back and the weight of his torn family. 

It left a bitter taste in Techno’s mouth, thick and suffocating at the back of his throat, and it tasted like the blood he’d spilled when L’Manberg fell. He hated more than anything that Tommy had been the one to be at the bottom of the pile, to take the brunt force of everything, and Techno - Techno was so _angry_ at him, he fucking burned with Tommy’s betrayal and Wilbur’s paranoia and Phil’s negligence - knew that he wouldn’t be able to face the sea without feeling like vomiting for a long, long time. 

He shifted slightly where he stood and realized that he was still holding Tommy’s… note. He stared down at his hand where his fingers dug into the half-dried paper, and he lifted it to his eyes once more, taking in the imperfections of the sheet, of the sorrowful way it fell limply in his white-hot knuckles and the tears of the ocean that blotched Tommy’s words. 

_the tide beats on._

Techno resisted the urge to tear the stupid thing into shreds and burn it. The voices demanded many things, and though Techno never indulged them much, he felt bloodthirsty that day, wanted to obey the rattling in his brain and slam his axe into the soft of someone’s throat, wanted to make anyone who drove Tommy to such _insanity_ pay. 

But it was ironic because Technoblade was the one who did this. It was him, it was Wilbur, it was L’Manberg, and it was Tommy. 

Techno drew in a deep, rattling breath and he shoved the paper into his pocket before he turned to stare at his other unexpected house guest. Dream sat down on the side of Tommy’s bed with a carefully blank expression, and it unnerved Techno how easily the other man could hide his feelings, like he was still wearing that cursed mask and smile of his. 

It was Techno’s first time seeing Dream’s face, and curiously enough, the other man didn’t seem to care, or maybe he just simply forgot that he had no facial cover. Freckles dotted his cheeks and nose in stubborn constellations, and his eyes were the kind of green that Techno had only seen in eyes of ender. 

The man had too gentle a face for someone so vicious. 

Techno had no idea what to think of him. Dream was someone that had multiple layers hidden so deep within himself that even a netherite pickaxe couldn't break any of it. As far as Techno knew, Dream held blood in one hand and war in the other, and Techno had once despised him for being too much like him, too much of a reflection of the side that Techno didn’t often like to visit. 

But Techno didn’t know anymore. 

There was no time to think about all of that nonsense, however. The past was irrelevant, no matter how much Techno wanted to rip into Dream’s soft flesh and watch him bleed gold, so instead, he turned around with a sweep of his cape and came back several minutes later holding folded clothes. 

Dream looked at him and made a small noise. 

“Here,” Techno said gruffly. They were the same height and roughly the same build, so the clothes should fit. He pursed his lips and tried not to think about the fact that he was willingly clothing the bastard who had ravaged the world with war. (As if Techno was any better.) “You’re drippin’ water onto my floor. I don’t need the wood rottin’.” 

Dream’s fingers twitched and Techno tried not to flinch when he realised that the tips were dyed blue. _Wilbur._ It was too much of a stabbing pain to even think about his brother, and Techno bit back a growl when Dream reached out and took the clothes with a small nod. “Thanks.” The word was flat and Dream’s expression was even more so. 

“Sure,” Techno said just as monotonously. 

He left if only for privacy reasons, but he left the door open slightly anyways just in case he had to rush in and save Tommy from Dream’s idiocy. 

Techno leaned against the wall outside the room and pinched the bridge of his nose. The voices were getting too loud by that point, murmuring in his ears and stroking his bloodlust to rise and fill his veins. But he had dealt with the voices for twenty odd something years already, so he merely batted them away and told them to shut up while he tried to clear his head. 

It was strange, really, how it was currently three something in the morning and Techno was waiting outside one of his own rooms just so _Dream_ could wear his clothes. It was even stranger to think that Dream was stripped down to nothing more than his softest layers, to his most inner self, and it occurred to Techno then that Dream wasn’t wearing any armor. 

He seemed lighter without it. 

Techno raked a hand through his hair and belatedly thought to himself that he probably looked like a mess. He’d been about to go to sleep when Dream had knocked on the door, and his hair wasn’t in its usual braid and he wasn’t even wearing shoes. Just another problem on top of everything else then, wonderful. 

He reentered the room and held back a noise of distaste at the sight of Dream wearing one of his dress shirts along with pants. What was even worse was that Techno had been right and the clothes fit well, so Dream didn’t look pathetic like he’d been secretly hoping for. 

Dream looked up at him from fixing the cuffs of his sleeves and gave a short, curt nod. 

Techno nodded back. 

They both moved without any words. It was strange, almost nauseating, how well they worked together while knowing that the other had the exact same idea. Techno had to hold back a bitter laugh when he thought to himself that maybe he and Dream could have been partners in crime or some other ridiculous bullshit like that in a different life. 

Unfortunately for them, _this_ was their life, and in this life, they both worked to carefully take Tommy out of his soaked clothes, Dream lifting up the boy’s arms and respectfully looking away while Techno furrowed his brows and tried to roll up Tommy’s shirt without jostling him too much. 

His breath hitched when he caught sight of his chest. 

Tommy’s pale skin was absolutely painted in bruises, a deep, ugly purple color, and the jutting ribs on his sides made Techno hold back a mouthful of bile at the sight of how some of them were poking at his skin in odd angles. They were most definitely broken, and it was even easier to see that the bruises on his skin were in the shape of hands. 

Techno looked up, his hands clenching Tommy’s wet shirt so tightly that his knuckles were lightning-white, and the voices were demanding that he kill Dream right then and there, for him to choke and throttle him until he died choking on his own vomit. He glared so hard that it was a wonder Dream didn’t set on fire from the intensity of it, but Dream was perhaps the only person on the server who would dare to say otherwise to Techno’s wrath, and as such, the man only stared back, his piercing green gaze hissing that he would cross blades if he had to. 

“You did this to him,” Techno said dangerously. It wasn’t a question. 

"I did." Dream was never one to sugarcoat anything when it didn't benefit him. He was like a snake, so coy and winding, silent and deadly as he coiled around someone's throat and strangled them before they even had a chance to notice. 

If Techno was a viper, then Dream was a constrictor, and Techno wanted to dig his fingers into Dream's eyes and wretch out those emeralds. 

Dream was not remorseful. 

Techno was going to make him. 

"You - " Techno hissed, and his blood was boiling, the voices screaming for vengeance, and this was Techno's fault but it was also Dream's, the man who held their server with an iron grip and ruled like a tyrant. He might have war and blood as lovers just like Techno did, but he was a leader and _god_ did Techno want to scream. 

"You should thank me," Dream interrupted, and he was doing that _thing,_ that thing where he dripped honey onto his words and sugar began to spin between his teeth. His eyes were a spring green and his freckles wove stories in constellations as he ran a gloved hand through Tommy's dirty hair with careful and blue-stained fingers. "Better for him to have broken ribs than dying forever. Don't try to blame this on me, Technoblade. We both know whose fault this is." 

Techno reached into his inventory for a dagger and threw it harshly in Dream's direction. He merely tilted his head to the side, the point of the knife grazing his neck and drawing beads of blood before it sank deeply into the wall behind him, digging into the wood for two, three inches before it finally stopped. 

The room was deafeningly silent except for the blood rushing in Techno's ears, and Dream didn't look disturbed despite the red now trickling down his skin, and Techno wanted to taste it, wanted to claw his nails into the wound and tear into it even further, but he did no such thing. 

"You and I carry the same weight," Techno said almost politely. 

Dream nodded. He didn't look remorseful, not even a little, but the way he weaved Tommy's hair through his fingers told Techno that he must be, at least somewhat. It was barely enough to be called anything, but Techno forced his anger to settle down as he took out a roll of bandages and together, they silently wrapped Tommy's chest. 

It was simple enough to work with, and Tommy looked at least slightly better and less like a drowned rat, so Techno left and came back with several bottles of potions and a few golden apples. He threw one of the fruits at Dream's head, disappointed but unsurprised when he caught it with a hand, and he gave a half-shrug when Dream looked at it curiously. 

"Eat it," Techno said simply, and he sat down beside Tommy's bed, rifling through his handful of potions with gentle clinks and trying not to be annoyed by how he was using even a small amount of his resources on Dream. 

"Thank you," Dream said, and his voice was soft, gentle enough for Techno to recoil and glance up to see Dream staring at him with large, unblinking green eyes. It was easy to see how Tommy, how _anyone_ could listen to him and his words, and Techno bitterly thought to himself that even he wasn't immune to Dream's words. 

“You’re the admin. Can’t you fix this?” Techno growled, and he waved a hand in Tommy’s direction, at the way his skin had a sickly glow and his ragged breathing. The potions would help but they weren’t miracles - it would take a long time to get Tommy back to the way he used to be, time that Techno was afraid they wouldn’t have. 

Suddenly, it was like Dream’s confidence and secret smiles slipped away, and sitting on Tommy’s bed was a tired twenty-something year old who looked just as exhausted as Techno felt. Dream’s shoulders, which he usually held so broadly and highly, slumped down, and he looked down at his half-eaten golden apple with dull eyes. 

“I’ve already broken enough rules for Tommy tonight,” Dream said, and that was that. 

Techno bit back a noise of frustration. He wanted to say that he didn’t care, that Dream should hold himself responsible for what he did to Techno’s little brother, but the voices demanded that Techno stop, to actually care for Tommy instead of seeking a fight with Dream every two seconds, and Techno gritted his teeth as he allowed himself to obey the voices and stiffly turned to face Tommy once more. 

_God, he looks awful._

Techno gently shook his shoulder while his other hand held a glowing pink potion. The vibrant magenta shimmered against his skin and promised quick healing, but regeneration only went on for so long, and it did nothing for hunger. Tommy looked like he was nothing but skin and bones, and no amount of god apples or potions would help him beyond the shallow wounds Dream had left behind. 

Techno knew that no potion could ever help the injuries that sank deeper into his soul. 

It took a while, but Techno was patient and Dream ate the rest of his golden apple as he watched. Techno didn’t want to move Tommy too much, but he needed to drink the potion to at least set his ribs in the correct position, because neither Techno nor Dream were skilled enough to even attempt such a thing. 

Tommy woke up like it was the last thing he wanted. His pale eyelashes fluttered against his sunken cheeks and he let out a small whimper of pain when he twisted his torso too much. Techno swallowed at the pitiful sound and when he glanced beside him, Dream looked stricken, his mouth slightly open and his skin pale. 

Tommy’s eyes were wide but disturbingly enough, when he turned his head to stare at them, that was all he did. There wasn’t even a spark of recognition in his eyes, much less joy at seeing his older brother. It was as if Tommy was blind, his eyes milky with dispassion and apathy. 

That was the worst part, Techno decided. If Tommy had been angry, or sad, or anything of the sort, at least it would have been _something._ Having those emotions was normal, even expected in such a situation like this, but there was nothing. Tommy was nothing more than a blank canvas, stretched far too thin by the people he had called his loved ones, and when Techno laid a hesitant hand on his shoulder, Tommy didn’t even blink. 

“Tommy,” Techno said quietly. His hand tightened on his shoulder. _I’m sorry, it was my fault, why did you do it, you shouldn’t have, you’re so irresponsible and stupid but it’s my fault -_ “I need you to drink this potion.” 

Tommy didn’t answer. In fact, it was like he was completely disregarding Techno in favor of Dream, and something made Tommy’s eyes widen slightly as he stared at Dream with a sudden feverish haze, his chapped lips falling open while his breath became more ragged. 

Dream looked disturbed. Techno couldn’t blame him, because Tommy looked like he’d just seen a ghost. 

Tommy licked his lips once, twice, the swipes of his tongue doing nothing to help the dryness of them, and when he spoke, it was so hoarse and so broken from months of not speaking that Techno had to hide a wince from the way it grated at his sensitive ears. 

“You… killed me,” Tommy rasped. 

Techno felt like a fresh wave of ice was running right through his gut while Dream looked as if someone had just stabbed his heart. He even clutched at his chest, fisting Techno’s shirt between his fingers so tightly that he would definitely get wrinkles in the cloth, and when he spoke, it was nothing like the honeyed words and saccharine manipulation from before. 

“What?” Dream whispered. His eyes were wide and his lips were quivering, and Techno knew Dream was a good actor, but he had a feeling that this wasn’t acting. There was something too raw and too sincere about the way his skin became pallid, with the way his shoulders trembled, with the way his voice was ragged. 

“You. Killed. Me,” Tommy repeated, and he spat the words out weakly, his voice too scratchy and loose to put more emphasis on them, but his head lolled to the side and he stared out the window, the pale moonlight shining on his face and for the first time, something sparked in his eyes. _Longing._ “I… was close. So… close to the s-stars. I could’ve been s… starfoam.” 

The silence in the room threatened to suffocate Techno from the inside out. Dream looked like Tommy had reached into his throat and wretched out his tongue, leaving him wordless, and Techno - Techno was speechless. Was this what his brother was reduced to? This pale imitation of his past self, someone filled only with apathy and bitter longing for the beyond? 

(like wilbur, like wilbur, like _wilburwilburwilbur_ ** _WILBUR_ ** \- )

It was silent. 

Techno hated the silence. 

“Why did you do it?” Techno asked. His voice was too loud in the quiet of the room, and Dream shot him a warning glance, told him to _stop talking,_ but Dream didn’t have any right to stop him. Neither of them did, because Techno was Tommy’s older brother, dammit, and he had to know. He had to. “Tommy, look at me. Tell me.” 

He was commanding him in what Tommy had once affectionately called his _fucking Blood God voice._ The boy had declared that it often made him want to piss his pants because of the chills that ran down his spine because of it, but this time, Tommy had no such reaction. In fact, it was as if he didn’t hear Techno at all. his eyes still glued to the window and gazing out, like he was yearning for the ocean and its cold waves once more. 

“Tommy,” Techno gritted out. He wanted to tear at his own hair. He wanted to kill Dream. He wanted to take Tommy in his hands and shake him so he would wake up, so he would stop floating in whatever disillusioned reality he had made for himself. He wished he was more like Phil, wished he’d taken after their father’s gentle nature and gentle hands, because all Techno knew how to do was shed blood and wage war. 

It was easy to see that he was not a good brother. 

Techno almost jumped when he felt a hand suddenly touch his shoulder. He looked up and it was Dream, who had a deep, sorrowful look in his eyes, so genuine that it couldn’t have been pity or anything of the sort. He pressed a finger to his lips, a gesture that told Techno to stay silent, and Techno slumped in his seat, suddenly feeling like he aged decades as Dream leaned forward towards Tommy and held out a flask of the blushing potion. 

“Tommy, we need you to drink this,” Dream cooed, and it fluttered against Techno’s ears, made him want to close his eyes and sleep forever in the sound. He was doing it again, shifting his tone and words to be spun into caramel and melted sugar, but there was something less sly about it this time, something less malicious. “You can do that for us, can’t you?” 

For a long, heart-stopping second, Techno thought it wouldn’t work. 

Then Tommy slowly turned his head, his eyes still dull and his movements like he was nothing more than a rusted toy, but then he slightly opened his chapped lips and Techno made a sound of relief. 

Dream smiled, and he squeezed Techno’s shoulder. 

Techno almost didn’t hate him for it. 

It was slow, trying to get Tommy to drink the potions. The boy was limp and didn’t seem at all interested in helping other than just parting his lips and swallowing, so Techno had to squirm underneath him and prop his head up against his lap so Dream would have an easier time pushing the flask against Tommy’s lips and so the boy wouldn’t choke. 

Every time he swallowed, Tommy winced like it hurt him, and Techno remembered the slivers of bile he’d cleaned from his brother’s lips when he’d taken his shirt off, and he came to the startling realization that Tommy must have vomited up all the seawater he’d swallowed when he’d - he’d - yeah. 

His throat must have been burned raw from it, the soft skin of his esophagus scratched to hell from the salt of the water, and Techno couldn’t stand the sight of him like this, weak and lifeless and surviving but not living. Gone was the boy who screamed and laughed and loved everyone with all of his heart, and Techno couldn’t help but think of the last time he went to see him on that fucking island, of the anger he’d displayed instead of the worry he’d been trying to express. 

God, Dream was right. He really was a shit brother. 

“Done,” Dream muttered, and he looked exhausted, his hands slightly trembling as he set down the last empty flask on the bedside table with a soft clink and his fingers twitched at the sound. 

“Sleep, Tommy,” Techno muttered, and he felt helpless as Tommy did so easily, like he was trying to remember the feeling of slipping under cold waves in his dreams. 

Tommy’s breathing was better, at least. It wasn’t as ragged or scratchy, it didn’t sound like it was tearing at his lungs and throat when he took in small huffs of air, and that should have made Techno feel better but it didn’t. If anything, it made him feel worse, like someone had run a spear right through him, and he ran a hand through his hair, wondering if this was what Phil had felt like when he had three boys scrambling around his house and running him ragged. 

_I should have taken him and left when I had the chance._

“Then why don’t we?”

  
  
Techno jerked and looked up to see Dream’s eyes staring right into his. It took him a second to realize that he’d spoken out loud, and Techno blinked slowly as he tried to process what Dream said. As more seconds passed by, the determination on Dream’s face grew even stronger, and his eyes hardened into emeralds while Techno tried to figure out what the hell he meant. 

“... What,” Techno said flatly. 

Dream stared at him with pursed lips, his arms crossed and his gaze piercing as he raised his chin high and nodded sharply. “We should take Tommy and leave.” 

Techno was stunned. He couldn’t even begin to process the words leaving Dream’s mouth, because what the hell? There were _so_ many things wrong with what he just said, and the voices were going absolutely crazy, half of them crying out for Dream’s blood because of his insanity while the other half _screamed_ for Techno to go along with. 

“Isn’t this your home?” Techno finally said. His words were dry and thick on his tongue, fell off his teeth slowly and felt like cotton was in his mouth, his hands shaky and his voices shrieking. Dream had always been an enigma to him, some could even say the yin to Techno’s yang, because they were alike (too alike) in so many ways but also so painfully different in others. This was a situation that showed just how anti-parallel they were. “Aren’t you the catalyst for everythin’?” 

“It hasn’t been home for a long time,” Dream shook his head. He only looked slightly guilty for saying it, and Techno realized that it must have been hard to admit it to himself, much less say it out loud. As mysterious as Dream was, Techno knew that he cherished his friends and family more than anything, and to declare them as naught must have torn something up inside him. 

For the first time, Techno felt a soft swoop of sympathy for him, and he nodded slowly. 

“I don’t regret everything,” Dream said seriously, and he meant it, too, his eyes deadpan and his voice firm as he stared at Techno. He had no regrets, and Techno could reluctantly agree on that. L’Manberg had been doomed from the start, and Techno didn’t feel guilty about lighting that fuse and watching it get blown to dust. “But I regret Tommy.” 

Techno understood everything and understood nothing at the same time. 

“Aren’t you and I like. Enemies or somethin’?” He blurted out, and it was such an awkward thing to say, but it was a legitimate question, something that itched and burned at him from the inside. 

Dream laughed and it was quiet and mirthless. “We might be, but we’re on Tommy’s side. I think we can agree to be at peace for now.” He paused. "I care about him, Techno. I always have."

Techno looked down at Tommy, at his little brother, at the bags underneath his eyes and the way his cheekbones were far too prominent, at the way he breathed unevenly and seemed dead in his sleep, and Techno remembered a decade ago when Tommy had clung to him with chubby arms and baby fat on his face as he demanded for Techno to teach him how to fight. 

Techno thought about all the times they loved each other like brothers should, before Wilbur lost himself, before Phil turned away, before Techno left, before Tommy took his path and walked the wrong one.

Techno wished he could turn back time, wished he really was a god so he could go back to the safety and golden comfort of Phil’s home, where everything had been warm and his hands hadn’t been so cold and bloodstained. Back when Tommy had glowed with the love of his family and love for himself, and Techno ached for that time _so much_ that he was choking on it, emotions clawing at his throat and threatening to tear his lungs out with his sorrow. 

Techno looked at Dream. 

He could only see sadness. 

“Okay,” Techno croaked, and his voice was shaky, trembling with the implications and consequences of what he was agreeing to, of the promises of somehow making a new start, of leaving behind his sword and instead choosing to heal his brother. 

Techno was a shit brother. 

But he would fix that. 

“Okay,” Dream said softly. 

He had to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think most of you have caught on by now but for each person i'm writing in a different style. the most easy to differentiate are tommy's and techno's, and dream is somewhere in between. he isn't as ornate or lavish in his thoughts as techno is, but he's still more than whatever the hell is going on with tommy
> 
> you also probably caught on to the capitalization thing. good job if you did!
> 
> and dream and techno are complicated in this, but to be honest all of them are. human emotions are fickle and often times you go one step forward but two steps back, which is what i tried to convey in this chapter. as much as dream and techno want to help tommy, they aren't necessarily good people, just people who have the same goal of fixing what they think they did wrong
> 
> that's all for today, thank you for reading!
> 
> (psst follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/scar_letstrings))

**Author's Note:**

> have faith. itll get better
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/scar_letstrings)


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